


When Seb met Liz.

by josafiend



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:11:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3915856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josafiend/pseuds/josafiend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a special visit to the Red Bull factory, Seb gets an unexpected surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Seb met Liz.

Sebastian watched as his team mates preened themselves in the mirror. Mark was checking his hair, Christian straightening his bow tie and Adrian, bizarrely, was testing his breath against his palm.

He couldn’t fathom it himself, all this fuss, just for an old woman. Sure, she was kind of important in England, and it could be his age talking, but the way the others were falling over themselves to impress was kind of embarrassing.

‘Aren’t you goin’ to sort that mop out mate?’ Mark asked, nodding up at Seb’s unbrushed hair.

He shrugged, running a hand over it half-heartedly. ‘It’s untameable.’

‘The rest of you bloody better be.’ Christian muttered, now peering up his own nostrils in the mirror. ‘This isn’t the launch, so don’t try anything funny.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Seb said, somewhat nervously. 

The team principle turned towards him. ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. If you think for one second the British press won’t lynch you for a comment like you came out with before…’

Seb waved his arms. ‘Okay, okay! I got it, no German jokes. Calm down.’

Mark chuckled. ‘German jokes, good one Seb.’

The entire team was collected in the main warehouse, mingling uneasily while the two public relations managers stalked amongst them, waiting to send them to their places. There were seats set out for the general staff while about a dozen were lined up on the stage for the drivers, bosses and team executives. 

‘Okay, she’ll be about five minutes!  
Everyone to their stations please?’

Seb trudged up the steps, sighing when he realised his seat was closest to the visitors. He looked over his shoulder and then switched his name with Mark’s. 

‘No Seb, you’re on the end.’ Christian said, steering the World Champion into the seat. ‘Remember, I’m watching every move.’

Mark swung in beside him, and the room fell silent as the guest of honour was led in.  
Seb watched her potter up the centre of the room, being shown the way by Dietrich who occasionally pointed out people for her to shake hands with. She was helped up the steps to the stage, followed by her tall husband, and was introduced to the line of people, which finished with Seb. 

As she came closer, he found himself feeling more and more nervous, what if he said something by accident. He’d only come out with the ‘moustache’ comment at the launch; because his mind had gone completely blank and he thought it might make everyone laugh while he thought of an answer.

Everyone was doing a little bow, what if he headbutted her? He’d be dragged from the stage and thrown in the Tower of London for sure. He pulled his fingers through the knots in his hair, wishing he’d borrowed a comb and made a little more effort. 

‘Good Morning Ma’am.’ Mark said, nodding his head graciously. 

‘Mark, it’s always a pleasure.’ She said, shaking his team-mate’s hand with pale yellow gloved hands. ‘So glad you’re here for another season, I thought it might have just been Daniel left in it from the Antipodes.’

‘I reckon I can hang in there for a couple more goes yet Ma’am.’ Mark said with a wink.

‘I very much hope so. God knows Lewis won’t do any bloody damage from all the way back at Merecedes.'

‘That’s hopefully the plan.’

She chuckled, looking towards Seb. Dietrich gestured towards him, and the World Champion quickly rubbed his palms against his trousers. 

‘Sebastian Vettel Your Majesty.’

‘Ah, young mister Vettel.’ She said with a curious glint in her eye.

Seb ducked his head in an awkward bow, swinging slightly to the left to avoid any forehead contact. She shook his hand with a grip he found was surprisingly firm.

‘It’s nice to meet you… Ma’am.’ He croaked. ‘Are you enjoying your visit?’

‘Of course, it’s a very tight ship Red Bull isn’t it?’

‘You’re not a Nazi are you?’

Seb gulped as the tall husband’s face reared into view, glaring into the now terrified driver’s pupils. ‘No sir, no.’

‘Oh Phillip, do stop being such a bore.’ The Queen sighed, waving a tired hand in the Duke of Edinburgh’s direction. ‘So sorry dear thing, we don’t usually bring him to these kind of events anymore, but he does sulk so.’

Seb smiled politely.

‘Now to business, as I’m sure you’re as eager to get away from this sillyness as I am, but I couldn’t very well request a private audience.’

‘No Ma’am?’

The Queen leaned in. ‘You’ve probably heard I like a bet, a flutter on the horses now and then, but I do like four wheels as well as four hooves you know. So I’ll be putting my pennies on you again this season, if you think you’re up to the job?’

Seb’s face broke into a grin. ‘Of course Ma’am, well I’ll do my absolute best for you!’

‘I hoped you’d say that dear boy. You never know what could happen in December, stranger things have happened than Germans finding their way onto my honours list.’

Dietrich coughed quietly, and the Queen nodded to him. ‘Ah yes, the speech, one must remember protocol.’

Seb bowed again, feeling much more relaxed now, as she was led to the tiny podium for her address.

‘Oh, and Sebastian?’ She said, turning to face him.

‘Yes Ma’am.’

‘Watch out for that bloody Raikkonen., he does know what he’s doing you know.’

The German laughed, wiping his brow as she wandered away. Never in his life could he have imagined the conversation that had just taken place. The Queen of England was a fan, and to think he had almost mentioned the war!


End file.
